


Like a Bolt Out of the Blue

by ScreamQueenBee (screamqueenbee)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Project Romanoff Mini Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:52:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4138293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamqueenbee/pseuds/ScreamQueenBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha Romanova is just getting her life together after the fall out of the Ultron Incident, training the New Avengers and helping rebuild a SHIELD free of Hydra. But the appearance of an old Soviet comic book hero and the Winter Soldier force her semblance of a normal life on its head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cover Art by Blackhaireddemon

**Author's Note:**

> My art partner for this was the amazing Celia and you should definitely follow her on tumblr here: http://blackhaireddemon.tumblr.com/  
> And instagram here: https://instagram.com/blackhaireddemon/

 


	2. Chapter 2

New Years Eve

           New Years in the first real get together at the new and improved Avengers’ Tower, Tony had insisted that Christmas be the inaugural event for the team that had turned into an ersatz family, but Pepper had counter-insisted that New Years would be better. Everyone had somewhere else to be, families and plans that even the likes of Tony Stark couldn’t sway.

           So, New Years Eve it was, which Nat usually spent alone, curled up with Liho in footie pajamas watching the Twilight Zone marathon. As far as she could possibly be from Times Square and all of the freezing drunk people who were gathered there, Natasha didn’t even watch the ball drop.

           This go around, however, she was among her fellow Avengers and nervous in a way she wasn’t usually. This wasn’t a mission, Natasha couldn’t just pick a persona and effortlessly slide into it like a glove. These were her friends and their friends, and they could all see right through her. The clothes helped. In a dress with a neckline that plunged lower than the zipper on her cat-suit ever had and a drink in her hand, supplied by Pepper and gussied up by Thor, Natasha felt protected. In it, she could play the part of the Black Widow, the most deadly person in rooms filled with deadly people. Untouchable.

           Everyone was smiling and laughing, telling stories about Christmas and Christmas disasters. Lila and Cooper were running around, charming all of the Avengers. She stuck to a wall by the bar, seemingly comfortable and open to match everyone else, a tiny smile set to her lips.

           “So…” A voice hedged at her shoulder. Natasha turned to see Steve, whose eyebrows lifted briefly before settling back into place. She didn’t even hear him approach her, but it was a wonder she could hear anything at all over the loud, old-fashioned music playing in the background. “Wow, that is… That is some dress, Natasha.”

           She shrugged her shoulders, and took a sip from her glass. It was a nice compliment and it almost made the complex network of beauty tape and weaponry underneath it worth all the time she’d put into it. “Well, I had to show up in something stunning. I thought this would be suitable, once I dusted off the mothballs.” She allowed herself to do a little twirl, which caught the eye of many of the men around them. Maybe the Asgardian add-in was starting to catch up with her. “You don’t look so bad yourself, I’m surprised Stark got you out of the gym for this.”

           Steve matched her shrug with one of his own before taking a drink from his own glass. “I needed a break. There are only so many punching bags I can bust before Tony has Friday lock me out. But truth be told, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. Pepper said you never come to things like this.”

           “Did you need something or did you just want to make small talk?”

           “I wanted to thank you for those files you gave us.” Us must have meant Sam too. There wasn’t anyone else she could think of that Steve would trust with the search. “You didn’t really give me the chance to before you ran off.”

           Natasha pinned him with a look. “Don’t thank me until you find him. Then you’ll know how useful they were.”

           “I know how useful they are now. If it wasn’t for that map of KGB bases, we would have never gotten close to him in the Czech Republic.”

           “You missed him by three miles and a week.” Her tone remained unconvinced, but Steve’s smile didn’t falter. It was warm and genuine, and he showed his teeth without it looking like a threat. She was forever amazed by his adaptability, his coping skills.

           “Sam and I wouldn’t have even gotten that close if it wasn’t for you.” He gave her a friendly nudge with his shoulder. “Really, thanks.”

           The music changed to something like a slow song, it must have been getting close to midnight. People were starting to pair off and wander to the windows, where the ball drop would be visible. They followed suit, refreshing their drinks along the way.

           “Found someone to kiss yet?” Natasha teased as she and Steve leaned against the safety railings, between Thor and Jane and Darcy Lewis and her flavor of the month. “I’m sure no one at this party would say no.”

           Steve gave another embarrassed smile and hung his head between his shoulders. “Why don’t you spend this much time finding someone for yourself?”

           She swallowed down the rest of her drink and forced a smile to her lips. “Because I got to worry about your first, you need someone to keep you from acting like a dumbass.” She snagged another drink from a passing tray, then tacked on. “It can’t be me and Sam all the time.”

           “I don’t want to kiss anybody at this party.” Both of their attentions fell on Wanda and Vision, who were already kissing.

           “Well, would you look at that.” Nat clinked her glass against Steve’s bottle, her tone sarcastic. “Welcome to the club, Captain Rogers, party of two and neither of them are the team robot.”

           “Artificially intelligent android.” They both corrected in that same, tired but impatient tone that Tony adopted whenever someone called Vision the R-word.

           The countdown to midnight started, leaving Nat and Steve rolling their eyes at each other.

           “Well, I’d much rather be watching Bob’s Burgers, but I don’t know if I can risk the bad luck.” She joked lightly, the numbers and the Ball getting lower. “Could get Clint’s bow broken or something.”

           “I’d much rather be watching anything than staying at this party.” Steve chuckled, looking around at all the people who were chanting numbers around them. “We could get out of here before people start trying to get us to kiss each other.”

           “Ew, who would want to kiss you?” Natasha perked up, a genuine smile falling into place on her lips. “What are we waiting for, then?”

           Steve offered her his arm and she took it. It was a nice feeling; the sleeve of his shirt was warm with the heat of the room against her fingers.

           “Everyone’s going to think we’re going to find an empty bedroom for another reason.” Natasha warned as they left the party quietly. Friday opened the elevator door for them and they descended to the lower, residential floor of Avengers Tower.

           “Yours or mine?”

           “Mine?” Nat looked up, confused. “You really want to walk all the way to my place with all that craziness outside? We’d be lucky if we got back in time for Valentine’s Day.”

           Steve glanced up her, his face falling into that expression that meant he couldn’t tell if she was joking or not, before he chuckled. “Did Tony not tell anyone else? I know Pepper sent out emails, I got them until I agreed to move in after we found Buck.”

           Natasha never read her emails. “What are you talking about?”

           “Stark had apartments set up for everyone, I’m not sure why. Who would want to live with Tony?”

           “Pepper, I guess. I’m still not sure how exactly that relationship works.” Nat had no clue about anything like that. “Well, I guess mine, I’ve never seen it before, but knowing Tony and Pepper like I think I do, the furniture will be comfortable and the tv will have higher definition than anything the DoD or NASA has. We could probably even see the sketch lines.”

           Friday helpfully took them directly to Natasha’s apartment in the tower, bringing up the overhead lighting when they stepped onto the main floor. The Twilight Zone was already playing on the obscenely large video screen in the living room. She looked around the space before taking off her Damsels and placing them by the door.

           “Well, make yourself at home, I guess.” She tried to laugh, but it sounded a little strange even to her ears. Natasha hadn’t known about the apartments in the Tower for the Team’s use, and couldn’t help but feel a little invaded. It felt too much like home to her. The furniture was sleek, but comfortable, just like the furniture in the place she was living currently, and there were posters from her modeling mission on the walls. When she moved closer to them, Nat saw that they weren’t posters, but paintings. A painting of her in the Agent Provocateur campaign she did years ago.

           She was going to talk to Pepper about that.

           “Is this you?” Steve’s voice piped up over Rod Serling’s introduction of another episode. He was at a bookshelf close to a hallway she assumed led back to the bedrooms, a locket style hinged picture frame in his hand.

           There were three pictures in the frame, two official photographs, taken during her stint at the KGB, and between was a wedding photo that was clipped from a Moscow newspaper. Black and white, with the subjects and the dates stamped neatly in Cyrillic at the bottom. Romanova, Natal’ya Alianovna. Shostakov, Alexei Alanovich

           “Yes, that’s me.” Her fingers plucked the pictures out of Steve’s hand, her grip on the metal and glass slick with sweat. Her hair was boy-short and black and the expression on her face was completely blank that had been drilled into her by the ballet masters at the Bolshoi.

           Perfect dancers never smile, people want to see the dance, not your ugly teeth.

           Alexei’s was much better because he was smiling at the camera, and that look hit her like a punch to the gut. This was one of her favorite pictures of him, it was the same one that ran in the papers after the accident that ruined her life and brought her back into the web of the Red Room.

           She couldn’t even look at their wedding photograph. That memory, for better or for worse, was perfectly clear. Natasha hadn’t seen those pictures since she’d left Russia for good. At least thirty years. And she’d looked for them in every place she could think of.

           How Tony fucking Stark got a hold of them when she couldn’t, Natasha couldn’t even begin to figure out.

           But she’d find that out too. Alexei and James were the only secrets that weren’t out in the open for everyone to see. Nat would prefer to keep it that way for as long as possible.

           “This picture says it was taken in 1948...” Steve said, a confused look falling into place. “Zola said you were born in ’84.”

           “That’s what is in my file.” She corrected. “There are a lot of things in my files that aren’t necessarily true.”

           “So, you’re what? 84 years old?” Steve’s voice hit that exasperated pitch that Natasha, unfortunately, was almost intimately familiar with. “And married?”

           Natasha snapped the frames shut and put it face down on the shelf, the alcohol finally settling in her head. “I’m ninety, actually. And it’s rude to ask a woman’s age.”

           “What happened to him?” He gestured to the picture again.

           “He’s dead.” Her voice sounded hollow in her ears, like she was talking about a mission kill.

           Steve paused for a second, swallowed, and started speaking again. “I’m so sorry, Natasha.”

           “Why? He was my husband, but that doesn't mean I liked him.” She said, the words coming out more sharply than they should have. It was a lie, she loved Alexei, so much so that it was easier to pretend she didn't. It hurt less that her bed would never again be warmed with the men Russia had taken from her.

           Nat had given up her lives, her security, to help the man standing in front of her. Keeping this to himself was the least he could do in return. “No one knows and I would really, really like it to stay that way.”

           “Of course I won’t say anything.” Steve finished his beer, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Do you want me to leave?”

           She shook her head, putting on a more convincing smile. “No, please. I’m sorry; this just took me by surprise. I don’t know how Stark got these pictures, or why he was even looking for them.” Nat ran her fingers lightly over the silver back of the frame. “Let’s just forget about it. Tell me how looking for the Winter Soldier is going.”

           Steve sighed and wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water. “It feels like we’re getting nowhere. Either he’s a lot smarter now than he was in DC, or someone’s helping him.”

           “Does he really seem like the kind to accept someone’s help?” Nat followed the hallway deeper into the apartment, finding a master bedroom and a couple of guest rooms because they clearly did not know Natasha that well.

           The closet in the bedroom was filled with an entire wardrobe’s worth of nondescript clothing, and Nat stripped out of the uncomfortable dress and into sweats before coming back into the living room. Steve was already on the couch, bow tie on the coffee table and collar unbuttoned, and flipping through the team’s Netflix account.

           “Start it from the beginning.” Nat told him, flopping down next to him on the couch and dismantling her hair.

           “Do you want to talk about it?”

           “Talk about what?” She dropped more bobby pins into the growing pile.

           “Your husband?” Steve hedged. “Your personal life? Nat, I know you like to keep to yourself, but we’re your friends. We know next to nothing about you.”

           “You’ve read my file.” She accused, shaking her out until it fell back into its natural curl before swinging around so her legs were in Steve's lap. And stole a drink of his water. “And my whole life is on the internet. If you really wanted to find out about me, you could without even asking.”

           “I would rather you tell me yourself.” Steve shrugged and stole his glass back, attention half trained on her and half on the tv “Going to the internet seems... I don’t know, dishonest. I don’t want to get information about my team second-hand.”

           Natasha got up laughing and went to get her own water. “You’re going to have to decide what you want to be. My friend or my captain.”

           “What’s the difference?” The question seemed casual enough, but she could hear the deeper questions underneath it.

           “Well,” She said lightly as she decided that the beer in the fridge was what she actually wanted if they were going to have that conversation. “My friend would trust me when I say that there’s not much worth telling. And my captain would have a repeat of the Lemurian Star mission.”

           Nat popped the beer’s cap on the edge of the counter and put it into one of the decorative bowls out of habit. She couldn't just leave them on the counters because they'd somehow, by way of Liho, would end up in her purse or shoes.

           Steve ran a hand through his hair. “Fair enough. But I’m only a shoulder tap away if you every want to talk.”

           “Yeah, you and Sam and Thor and Wanda.” She huffed before settling into the space between Steve’s arm and side.

           Friday politely interrupted just then, even though there was no danger of anything happening between her and Steve. “Mr Stark has requested brunch tomorrow afternoon, I’ll set up your wake up calls.”

           Steve pulled a blanket out from somewhere and draped it over them, even though their respective serums assured that they almost never got cold. Friday helpfully turned the overhead lights off.

_She wakes up in bed between two warm bodies and anxious energy thrumming through her limbs. The air in the room is freezing and there’s weak light coming in through a dirty window._

_Natasha knows that they have slept too long already, and that they have to keep moving if they don’t want to be found. They were supposed to leave before the sun came up in order to get to the train to cross the border into Finland._

_Sitting up, she reaches over to shake one shoulder and the air in the room drops twenty degrees in a second._

_Alexei is staring up at her, eyes wide open and greyed and mouth formed into a silent cry of warning. There is a dark hole in the space between his eyes. Frantically, she turns to James to wake him and sees that the valley of the bed where she was sleeping is sprayed with blood and bone and brain matter._

_There’s movement in the corner of the room and Natasha moves to counteract any attack that might come, jumps up and scrambles for any weapon she can use…_

_Then Natasha is on her back, gasping for breath and struggling to break free from the weight pinning her to the concrete floor. Staring up into her own blank face. She remembered that expression, it was the expression of a killer, a cold-blooded murderer._

_It was the look that the Red Room taught her, the Winter Soldier helped her perfect, and Lyosha and Yasha helped her break…_

_She caught the glint of a finka, gleaming and still clean in the morning sunlight. Yasha had given her that knife, she knew it almost as well as she knew him. Knew the intimate feeling of it slide between ribs or twist apart vertebrae._

_The expression on the face of the Natasha looming over her doesn’t change as she shoves it up between her ribs, instantly forcing the breath out of her lungs_.

* * *

 

New Years Day

           Nat woke up in a bed that she knew she didn’t fall asleep in, and immediately went into panic mode. She reached for her tactical belt for something to protect herself, but only found worn, soft t-shirt and sweat pants. Then New Years Eve came flooding back to her, and calmed her to know that she was safe in Avengers Tower. Nothing felt out of the ordinary with her body, either, which calmed her more.

           “Agent Romanova, your heart rate is elevated. Would you like me to alert the infirmary and have a doctor sent up?”

           She could still feel the knife stuck between her ribs, so much so that she pulled up the t-shirt and made sure there was nothing but scarred skin underneath. She got up and stumbled into the master bathroom, where Friday turned on the shower while Natasha threw up her last few meals.

           "Agent Romanova, Sam Wilson is requesting entrance to the quarters."

           She made a waving hand gesture, hoping that Friday would tell Sam to go away. Instead,  the bubbly, playful early morning jokes of Sam Wilson filtered in through the cracked bathroom door.

           “Rise and shine, Spidergirl! Friday said Tony wanted to go out for breakfast and then it turned into a team outing, so we gotta go before all the other drunks get our tables!”  He pushed the bathroom door open and made a sympathetic sound. “Oh, I know that feel. That was me and Wanda about twenty minutes ago. Thor’s shit kicks like an angry mule on a time delay.”

           Nat discreetly wiped her mouth on one of her bath towels and drug herself into standing position. Sam looked politely away while she stripped out of her sweaty pajamas, then stepped into a shower after disposing of the evidence. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you because of the porcelain around my ears.”

           “I was just saying that we need to move or we’re not gonna eat without a wait, but you should take your time.” She could see the blurry shape of him hop up onto the vanity sink through the privacy glass and shampoo foam. “Are you okay, though? Steve said you got snappy with him last night.”

           Nat chewed the inside of her cheek as she dragged soapy fingers through her hair. “I’m fine, I just wasn’t in the best of moods while he was here.”

           “You know,” Sam kicked his heels lightly against the metal of the under sink cabinets. “I am a certified counselor.”

           “So you’ve said many, many times before.” She slid the shower door open a sliver and groped for a towel, which Sam handed to her. It was black and expensive, with NAR embroidered in red at the corner, Natasha cringed at it before wrapping it around her hair. “And I have a feeling that I’m about to get tag-teamed.”

           She walked out of the bathroom, Sam followed, and walked into the closet for clothes to wear that day. He sat on the bed and looked around the bedroom. “Well, none of us are as dumb as you seem to think we are, especially Steve. And we’re observant. We know something’s up with you.”

           Nat just mhmed as she got dressed (grey t-shirt, dark jeans, and black heeled boots) in the closet, tossing her damp hair into a messy bun. “It’s really nothing. Everyone freaked out when they found about Laura and the kids. I don’t need that and I don’t need people to forget what their job is because they’re too busy trying to get me back safe to something I don’t have.”

            _You know too many of my secrets as it is and that scares me_.

           “Loving people isn’t a weakness.” Sam said matter of factly when she came out, her widow’s belt cinched across her waist and hidden by her shirt. “Despite everything I would assume you were taught in the Red Room, love isn’t going to hurt you.”

           She could have said something then, something that would have torn that argument to shreds. Love had already hurt her. She had so much love for Lyosha and Yasha, and they were gone and she remained. One of the best killers in the world. Sam didn’t know how deeply being in love could hurt someone.

           That was another secret she’d like to keep to herself, however. Let everyone think that she didn’t have feelings joy in the hunt. Let her be just the sarcasm and wit and fatal skill.

           “Sure, Sam. Sure.” She picked up the fold over clutch with her apartment keys, phone, and her wallet inside. He follows her out, offering her help to steady her as she puts on the damsels and sunglasses before leaving to meet the rest of the Team.

* * *

**  
  
**

Valentines Day

            Valentines Day was not a holiday Natasha very much cared for. Call it her Red Room training, or her Soviet upbringing, but she really didn’t see the point in it. Even with Alexei, she felt like she was going through the motion, they hadn’t ever needed a day to be more in love than any of the others. So she spent the day moving her main base of operations from the apartment in Little Ukraine to the floor in Avengers Tower.

           Moving made her realize how little she had that she would miss losing, which was basically just the cat. Nat packed up everything in that apartment into a small SHIELD vehicle, two-door and tiny trunk. She chalked it up to the life of someone who was constantly on the move. She was meant to be fluid, ever-changing and insubstantial. Less like water, because water left its mark even after a short time, but like smoke.

           She stood in the empty living room of the old apartment and felt a touch of pain deep in her chest. It looked exactly like it did when she bought it; no scuffs on the floor, no marks on the wall, not even the smell of a cat. She’d decided that she’d keep it, just in case.

 

           The drive to the Tower was a very short one, but Liho treated it like they were going cross country and he was strapped to the hood of the car. He yowled all the way to the Tower, in the lobby, up the elevator, and into their new home.

           Steve helped her move the cardboard boxes into the living room and kitchen, even though he didn’t really need to because she only had boxes of dishes and books. Which took all of five minutes to move from the elevator to the apartment, then they retired to the kitchen for beer and pizza with Sam and Wanda while How It’s Made played in the background.

           Wanda and Natasha, much to everyone’s surprise, had become fast friends in the time after the Ultron Incident. She and Liho were also very fond of each other, to every Avengers’ delight, and she carried him around the kitchen in her arms, feeding him scraps a pepperoni and licks of beer while cooing over him in Sokovian.

           Natasha preferred her interactions with people to be like this. Small and just casual enough so she didn’t feel like she had to perform for them. The gathered group didn’t care if she was quiet or seemed boring at the moment.

           She laughed at their joking, and they seemed okay that she didn't join in. Wanda was teaching them some Sokovian phrases, and Natasha didn't bother to tell them that they weren't actually learning the correct words.

           An hour later, Steve and Sam got called out on some milk run mission, leaving Nat curled up on the couch with Wanda, Liho between them. She was surprised that Wanda not only tolerated the closeness, but actively reciprocated. Her head tucked between Natasha’s cheek and shoulder, eyes focused on some Public Access version of The Firebird. It was a lazy and warm feeling, Natasha had little experience with female friendship. The Red Room made sure there was no comradery between its students, but she was surprised that she had come to think of Wanda as something like a younger sister.

           “My mama saw you dance once.” Wanda said, Natasha blinked awake and resumed wrapping one of the soft brown curls around her fingers. “Not in person, but the cinema was playing a film of Swan Lake and my papa took her to see it. She loved ballet, she wanted us to take classes but no one in our town taught it.”

           Natasha hmmed, not wanting to tell her what had gone into that show. The bruises from Ballet Master's ratan cane, the little puddles of blood on the floor where thin skin had broken. A girl had collapsed once, dead from exhaustion, right in the middle of Giselle. They'd gone on around her, until her body could be removed when the curtain closed. It wasn't even the first time it happened either. “Really? I wasn’t even that good.”

           “Mama said you were the best." Wanda's voice had gone soft in the memory, her fingers playing with the fringe on her scarf. "Your story was the dream and ambition of every little girl in Sokovia and Russia. Beautiful, intelligent, and talented, with a handsome military husband. Mama called it the greatest love story she’d ever knew.”

           “I’m not really sure how I feel about that.” Considering that most, if not all, of that story was a lie, and not one that should be anything anyone should aspire to. Nat started to say exactly that before stopping. “Wait…There’s a film of me dancing?”

           Wanda nodded. “It’s like a newsreel, I think they played it before all the movies in Sokovia. I’m sure it’s online somewhere.”

           Nat hmmed, changing the subject away from herself to Wanda. “Sooo, you and Vision?”

           The witch looked everywhere but at her friend, and that was answer enough for her. “What about him?”

           “You two are getting close, it’s cute.” Natasha took a section of Wanda’s curls and braided it. “It’s a good match, you seem happier.”

           Liho got up and stretched before padding up to lay back down in Wanda’s lap. “I am happier. He’s kind, I think he loves me. I haven’t asked and he hasn’t shown me.”

           She smiled a little, looking from the sleeping cat to Natasha. "Is that what it's supposed to be like?"

           Natasha honestly didn't know, and she kept braiding the younger woman's hair to justify her silence. "... The great loves of my life were arranged for me. They were set in my path, unmovable, and I couldn't help falling in love with them. It was expected of me." They were tests of her devotion, not love one, but love the other. A test she failed once, only once, before promising herself she'd never fail again.

           “That.... that really puts a damper on the greatest Russian love ever told.” Wanda sighed, scratching Liho’s flickering ears.

           “I still loved him, it’s just not the story everyone heard.” She had been lucky that Alexei was so devoted to her, and she to him. It could have been so, so much worse. He could have been cold, treating their marriage like the military assignment  it actually was. He could have been like the military officials brought in to teach the Red Room girls, using them as punching bags and worse.

           Instead, Alexei was kind and sweet, never asking where she ran off to for weeks on end more than to make sure she was alright, bringing her coffee on Saturday mornings... He understood that there were things that she could or wouldn't do. Alexei never asked why she called sometimes called him Yasha instead of Lyosha in the night.

           "What about the other?"

           Nat's gaze flicked back to the television. She mused briefly about not telling her, but it might break the newly formed friendship she had with Wanda. The witch, Wanda preferred it over 'enhanced', knew every part of Natasha's head. Every memory had been laid bare at her fingers, but Nat was the only one who knew how they fit together.

           "Yasha was one of my teachers. When the people who trained me saw how well we worked together in the classroom, they put us out in the field." Nat paused before continuing. "They let us get close, closer than any two Red Room operatives should get, and then I was forced to choose between the man I loved and my country."

           She stopped there. It was obvious what she'd chosen because she was still alive. Natasha had thought they'd killed Yasha after her graduation, she hadn't seen him since the day her handler had dragged her into that tiny lab by her hair. She could still smell the antiseptic and ozone and see Yasha, frightened but fighting as the men in the lab coats forced him into that tube white and smoking with frost. That had been her graduation, so much crueler than the stories of what the Germans had done to their officers.

           The handler had forced her to watch him struggle and scream through the round window in the side of the chamber. It was hardly big enough for even a slim man like Yasha, and the metal of his arm clanged against the sides. Natasha had to remain impassive on the outside, while on the inside she was in anguish at the look of betrayal on his face as the thick glass iced over.

           Wanda's phone buzzed, drawing Nat out of the dark place her mind had wandered to. "Pietro is complaining about Barton's dog again. I should go."

           She walked Wanda to the elevator with an angrily tired Liho in her arms and told her goodnight, before making her way to her new room. There were still tasks that needed to be done, things to make the new place comfortable, but those could be done tomorrow. Tonight, she wanted a proper night of sleep, uninterrupted by global catastrophe or evil robots or aliens.

           She changed into a pair of Stark Industry shorts and climbed under the covers of the bed. Liho roamed around until he was comfortable and laid down finally at her side. Nat was surprised that he didn't want to skulk around the new space more and that he wasn't crying to go outside. He may have seemed like a born and bred house cat, but Liho was a stray at heart.

           Nat's hand reached and touched the thick fur the back of the animal's neck, then frowned. Something jingled, and Nat leaned over to flip on the light. Liho's collar had a silent tag so nothing on it should be jingling.

           The cat gave her an annoyed look at being shifted around and turned his head away from Nat in displeasure. She could see that there was a silver chain wrapped around the flat black of his collar, a plain gold ring dangled from the chain's end.

           "What on earth did you get into, Liho?" She said softly as she tried to extricate the jewelry from the collar. Once it was free, she could get a better look.

           The chain had no distinguishing marks of its own, but the ring had little scuffs around the edge. A sick feeling settled into her stomach when she realized that she knew exactly where it came from. It was Alexei's, the ring she'd given him the day they'd married, but she didn't know where Liho could have gotten it. She had been almost certain it had been lost somewhere when she defected.

           Tears started and didn't stop. Nat didn't understand why it was affecting her like this. The cat looked as startled as she felt, but inched his way into her lap and curled up.

           She hadn't cried like that since she came to the U.S, not even in Odessa when she found out that Yasha was still alive and especially not the second time his bullets found their way under her skin. Crying didn't help, it solved nothing. Alexei was dead, she'd seen the wreckage of his plane and knew that no one could have survived the crash that caused it. Crying did nothing and was a poor use of her time.

           Natasha got herself under control after a few minutes and put the ring into a drawer in her nightstand. She turned off the light, determining to decide what to do with the ring in the morning when she was clear-headed. Liho made an appreciative little sound when Nat settled into bed again, even more exhausted than before.

* * *

The Ides of March

           “Romanoff!”

           Natasha looked up from her punching bag to see Maria Hill standing at the top of the gym catwalk. She had a new hair cut and the old brain grey suit, but the same all business demeanor she displayed.

           “The Director wants to see you.” The  woman said coolly, Nat nodded that she understood

           She headed over to her gym bag and started unwrapping her fingers as Maria said louder. “He wants to see you now, Natasha.”

           She nodded again and slung her bag over her shoulder, opting to take the stairs down to Fury’s office so she could tick the running portion of her workout of the list.

           Steve and Nick Fury were waiting for her when she arrived; both looking every inch of the elite fighters they were and Natasha looking like a hot mess in her gym clothes and sweaty, saran-wrapped hair. Steve gave her an apologetic look, but Nick didn’t bother.

           “What do you know about the Red Guardian, Romanoff?” He asked, pinning her to the stop with a look over his steepled fingers. She raised an eyebrow at the question before answering.

           “He’s a comic book hero. Created to give the Wolf Spiders something to aspire to and then he took off in popularity with the civilians. A hero for Russia.” Nat looked from Fury to Steve and back. “Why?”

           Nick pulled up a grainy video of someone picking his way through the ruins of Sokovia. The video was obviously taken by a first generation camera phone, so the quality wasn’t great, even with the enhancements.

           The video came into better focus and she could see that the person in the wreckage was a man, roughly the same size as Steve and in a similar uniform to the one Steve wore for stealth. This suit was dark burgundy and dark grey instead of blue.

           “This is the Red Guardian?” Steve was quiet.

           Natasha shrugged, it looked like what she’d seen on the newsstands in Moscow. Less flashy than Steve. “Too many kids were reading Captain America comics after the war, the propaganda department created the Red Guardian to replace you.”

           She turned to Fury again, who was watching her like a cat does a bird. “What is he doing?”

           “Nothing so far, but we don’t know whose side he’s on. He might be a friend of Russia, but that doesn’t mean he’s a friend of the rest of the world." He stood up from his desk and circled around it closing the video. “Captain, you’re dismissed.”

           Steve gave them both a look, one that Natasha had been on the wrong end of too many times to count lately, before striding out of the office and closing the door behind him. Fury leaned on the front edge of his desk and watched Natasha expectantly.

           “Okay, now that Cap’s not listening, what do you really know about this Red Guardian guy?”

           Of course.

           “I don’t know anything about him.” She answered back insistently. “Even if I had any of my old contacts, they wouldn’t say anything to me. I’m a traitor, there are standing orders to take the shot at me if anyone has it.” Not that she really blamed anyone she worked with for that, she would do the same thing if it meant protecting the greater good. And she was most definitely a threat to the greater good of Russia.

           “Alright, keep me in the loop on this, Natasha. If you find anything out, I want to be the first to know.” He warned. “I don’t want this to turn out like Prague because you ran off without letting anyone know.”

           Natasha bristled briefly at the idea that SHIELD needed to know where she was at every moment of every mission until she realized that it was just Nick who wanted that. He was among the few people that she could really call a friend, and that’s what friends did.

           “Understood.” She said before turning on her heel and vacating the office as quickly as she could.                                          

           Natasha felt like garbage. Her face still felt slimy from sleeping in her  make up from the night before plus the abrupt extraction from her work out and she was tired with the beginnings of a stormy headache between her eyes. She needed what the Red Room lovingly referred to as ‘maintenance.’ She didn’t really want to be around anyone at the moment, especially if they were going to keep pushing her to talk about her feelings. Red Guardian wasn’t a priority at that moment and, without fail, some Pavlovian response to maintenance calmed her.

           “Where are you going?” Steve caught up with her at the elevators after she left Fury’s office.

           “I’m going to my room for the day.” She answered curtly as they both stepped inside and Friday zoomed them up to the residential floors of the Tower. “I have to finish my hair and I don’t want to go down to the Mwah Department because I have a headache and I know that it’s their job, but I don’t want them to screw it up.”

           “Yeah, I was going to ask about that, but then all this stuff with the Red Guardian came up.”

           “Unlike some people around here, my enhancements aren’t permanent.” She snapped back a little harsher than she had intended. “And they didn’t all come after fifteen minutes in a vitaray cocoon. Or voluntarily.”

           Everything she had, her implants, veneers, nails, and hair were forced onto before her graduation from the Red Room. Hell, they’d brought some experimental scientist in to change the color of her eyes from muddy brown to the brilliant green she had now. The Red Room had changed everything about her, even reconstructed her face so she couldn’t even pass as Russian anymore. They’d turned her into a weaponized honeypot, and it still made her more than a little sick to know that she was still using those upgrades.

           True that her implants had been changed from the sketchy Russian silicone to the safer saline when she moved to the States, the first generation veneers replaced better ones, and the damage done to her eyes had been reversed with Lasic, but she was still more a pretty weapon than a person.

           Nothing seemed to have changed. She was still sent out as the first agent when a man needed persuading.

           She caught the look on Steve’s face and tried to soften her words. “Red Guardian isn’t causing any trouble at the moment, at best he’s a wait and see. Going to Sokovia isn’t going to do anything but spook him, we don’t know who or what he’s got covering his sixes if he’s got anyone. We’d have to take the Maximovs, Pietro still hasn’t been cleared for field duty after the accident.”

           “You’re right.” Steve assumed his Commander America stance, drawn up to his full height with his shoulders and his thumbs in the loops of his pants. “Are you sure you didn’t hear anything about him when you were in Russia?”

           “Contrary to popular believe, the KGB didn’t go blabbing all of their secrets to me. If he even is KGB and not just some superfan in a costume.”

           “No, but you and Nick keep things to yourselves-”

           The elevator door slid open and Friday announced that they were at Natasha’s floor, she stepped out. “Don’t worry too much about it, Rogers, you’ve got a ghost to look for and Avengers to train.”

           “Look, Nat. I know that this doesn’t seem that important, but this guy is running around in my costume and-”

           “It isn’t that important, when you’re one of 28, that kind of thing losing all meaning.”

           “-if he runs into Bucky, we don’t know what could happen.”

           “He’s not going to run into the Winter Soldier, we haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since Christmas and he was nowhere near Sokovia. There is no reason to think that they would meet up, and even less that something could happen if they did.”

Steve’s mouth set itself into a firm line and his posture squared up, if she didn’t know any better, she would think he was trying to intimidate her.

“Nothing is going to happen, don’t worry so much.” Nat turned away to show that his gestures really meant nothing to her when Steve said.

“That’s pretty easy to say when it’s not your best friend that’s missing.”

           Natasha had to take a steadying breath and thank everything that nothing throwable was within reaching distance. She clenched her fists once, then calmly set her bag down next to an incredibly impractical end table. Her headache was starting to get worse, and she really didn’t have the strength to deal with Steve’s pissy attitude just because he thought she was lying to him or some fanboy was wearing a knock-off Cap costume.

           “Because I’ve never had friends go missing, right Steve? I’ve never had to bring their bodies back home from the field. Or leave them there because my orders were to do so.” Natasha strode back to the elevator door and punched the down button for him. “Just because you’ve read my personnel file doesn’t mean you know anything about what I’ve had to do, Rogers.”

           Friday thankfully closed the elevator doors before Steve could say anything. Apology or not, Natasha didn’t want to hear it.

           “Lock the floor down, Friday. Tell all interested parties that I don’t want to be disturbed.”

           “Already done, Agent Romanov.”

           Natasha thanked whoever or whatever inspired Stark to create Friday, who seemed to be more intuitive than JARVIS was at many points in their interaction.

           Liho was already digging around in her gym bag when Nat walked into her apartment’s bathroom to finish up her hair, which only took half an hour plus drying time and she was back to her preferred ringlet curls.

           She walked out into the living room, freshly showered and Biore mask in place and drying, and stopped just before flopping down on the couch for a nap. Something was off, she hadn’t noticed when she’d came in because she and Steve were arguing but now it was loud and clear.

           She lived sparsely for a reason , it paid off to know when things in a safe house had been disturbed.

           Something was different, Natasha could feel it. The space felt different, not necessarily invaded, but different. Like there was a slightly different frequency to the normal white noise of her personal space.

           “Friday, has anyone been in here besides myself and Steve?”

           “No one unauthorized has entered your quarters since you moved in, Agent Romanov.”

           Nat nodded to herself. “Is anything out of place since I left?”

           “Liho has been moving things around since he woke up,  many things are out of place.”

           She could barely contain her sigh of relief, of course. Liho loved to drag things all over the apartment, much to her frustration at times.

           Nat padded over to where the cat was curled up asleep in her gym bag and scratched under his chin. “You gave me a scare you little beast, thank god.”

           The cat only yawned and rolled into another position, paying her no more attention. She took that as a sign to leave him be and stop worrying over a feeling that obviously meant nothing.

           She peeled her mask off, which was a terrifying experience because of the sheer amount of detritus that came out of her pores, and slid into her bed, exhausted.

           “Friday, search for any videos of the Red Guardian, please.”

           The dark room was suddenly softly illuminated with grainy videos of the man in red and grey. Natasha found the video Fury showed them and filtered out all repostings of it. There wasn’t much to go off of, just a lot of speculation and people excited to see the great Russian hero in the flesh. It was less than useless to her and Steve. “Turn it off, map all of the confirmed sightings and send them to Steve, please.”

           At least he wouldn’t be able to say that she hadn’t gotten anything done today.

           She really had to give Tony Stark, or in the more likely case Pepper, credit. Her bed and sheets were exquisite, pillow-like and practically melting underneath her. Unlike Steve and Sam, who never seemed to like any mattress they slept on, she hadn’t ever slept so soundly in the United States and she woke up relaxed and with no soreness from her work out in the morning.

           She stretched and asked Friday to give her updates from the time she was asleep. The AI brought up the map of the sightings as Nat made herself a cup of coffee and tried to rid herself of the cramp that seized her foot up halfway to the kitchen.

           “You have messages, Agent Romanov. Would you like me to read them?”

           “Please, Friday.” Nat couldn’t quite get the cramp to stop, so she propped her foot up on the coffee table and sipped her drink even though it was dark outside all of her windows.

           “Captain Rogers has been trying to gain access to the floor, he says he would like to apologize and goes over the Red Guardian case with you. He also said that some mail got mistakenly sent to his floor instead of yours, he’ll bring it up at your convenience. Would you like me to tell him you’re awake?”

           She stretched out across the couch, propping her foot up a plush throw pillow. “I suppose, Friday. Thank you.”

           A few minutes later, the elevator door slid open and Steve walked into the living room, a box under his arm. “Hey, sorry about earlier, Nat.”  
The redhead waved it off. “Don’t worry about it, what did you want to talk about?”

           Steve moved her legs and sat down next to her on the sofa before moving them back so they stretched across his lap. “Sam and I looked at the map you sent, I think we might have found something.”

           The map Friday made for them stretched out in the space in front of them, hovering inches above the coffee table. The locations the Red Guardian had been spotted were marked with yellow push pins and yellow dotted lines connected them.

           “We were looking at it and we thought it was completely random. He jumping from country to country, no logistics behind his movements.” Natasha looked over at him expectantly, she knew all this already. “But Sam noticed it first.” Another series of push pins, this time red, laid over the yellow ones, matching up almost perfectly. “This is a map of all the locations Bucky’s been seen.”

           Natasha sat up a little straighter, pouring over the map and locations. “They’re following each other…”  
“Not quite.” Steve muttered. “Show the dates and the locations where Natasha Romanoff and the Avengers have had missions.”

           “So much for this being a stupid movie.” More pins and connections, this time with dates. Natasha’s eyebrows went up. “They’re following us.”  
“They’re following you.” He corrected. “In all of these places, you’ve either showed up on the news or social media. None of the undercover missions since the data dump are on here.” Steve looked at, trying to gauge her reaction to the news. “Are you sure you don’t know who this Red Guardian is?”

           Natasha stared right back at him, unwavering despite the fact that her heart was thunderous in her ears. Yasha was looking for her, even if he didn’t know why, he was looking for her. She didn’t couldn’t hope for the outcome she wanted to, but she couldn’t exactly ignore the sharp stab of pure want through her chest because Yasha was looking for her. “I told you, I have no idea who he is, or why he’s working with Barnes. But there’s only one way to find out.”

           “Ladies choice. Where do you want to play, Nat.”

           “I’ll take the home field advantage any day of the week.” She said with a small smirk getting up and stretching. “I’m assuming you want to start as soon as possible.”

           “Right. Set the trap, and wait, it’ll take them a while to get stateside, oh…” Steve put the cardboard box on the table. “Your package. I don’t know how it got delivered to me. It’s all in Russian, so I’m assuming that’s part of it.”

           She saw immediately that it was Russian in origin, which made her hesitant to open it, but if whatever was inside survived Steve’s lumbering, she assumed it was okay.

           A knife blade slit the tape easily, as did the box’s flaps. There was a sealed envelope sitting squarely on top, addressed to her. She opened that first, and read through it quickly, heart sinking as she did so.

           Steve must have noticed the change in her demeanor, his hand came to rest lightly on her arm. “What does it say?”

            _“Dear Tatiana Sokolova, at the request of the estate of Captain Alexei Shostakov, these pieces of the Bolshoi’s collection of Swan Lake artifacts have been returned to you after the world tour during the 2014-2015 season. Enclosed you will find the Odette and Odile headpieces worn by prima ballerina Natal’ya Romanova in her final season of dancing with the Bolshoi. We have ensured their care in their travels with the rest of the collection, and in their return to you. We hope that they find you safely. It has been our pleasure to safeguard these treasures during the years, and hope you will enjoy them as much as we have.”_

           Natasha had to sit down and bite the insides of her cheeks like she did as a child to keep from crying. It felt worse that being punched in the gut, worse than what she could remember of the Red Room’s punishments. Steve squeezed her hand before getting up and taking the box over to the shelves with the pictures of her and Alexei where. She watched as he carefully lifted the white and black feathers and paste stones out of the box, setting each on either side of the triptych frame.

           They sat in silence for a few minutes before Natasha got up, discreetly trying to wipe her eyes. The ring on its chain, hidden underneath her shirt, felt like a millstone around her throat ready to choke her. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

           “Are you sure?” She honestly couldn’t stand the concern in Steve’s voice. She could count on her fingers the amount of people who showed any kind of concern towards her, and there were very few of them still alive.

           “I’m positive.” Natasha took a breath and squared her shoulders. Yasha was going to be cautious in searching for her, he hadn’t been seen nearly as much as Guardian, but if the patterns were anything to go by, Yasha would bring the Guardian with him. Two birds, one stone.

           The plan formulating in her head wasn’t exactly something she wanted to do, but it would get his attention. “It’s got to be something big right? To draw them all the way to the US. I might have an idea.”

           They were back in Fury’s office the next morning, who was looking stormy at the prospect of using his best agent as bait for known dangerous parties like the Winter Soldier, who had already shot her twice. His exact words were: “This is stupid, dangerous, and dramatic.”

           “That’s not nice to say, Steve’s sitting right here.”

           Fury gave her an unamused look and Natasha went serious. This wasn't a mission to be undertaken lightly and she really didn't want another dressing down from her higher ups.

           "I don't like this. Not at all." He continued. "But I trust you two, and if this is what you think will solve our problem." Fury sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Do it, but if I think something is going amiss, I'm pulling the plug immediately. Do you understand?"

           Natasha nodded and assumed Steve did too, because they were dismissed.

           "Are you sure about this?" Steve asked her for the umpteenth time.

           "It's the only way and you're not pretty enough to play me."

           "Be serious for a second." Steve pulled her into a doorway, the action of painful reminder of the last time he'd done this. "Can you do this?"

           Her expression hardened. "You said it yourself, they're following me. This will draw Barnes out into the open for capture and you can figure out what the Red Guardian wants and have your best friend back." Natasha put her hand on his chest and pushed him until she was no longer backed into the corner. "Two birds, one stone. And you don't even have to do anything."

           Steve just shook his head. "I don't like it."

           She smiles a little, but it was forced. "Lucky for us, you don't have to like it. You just have to follow my lead."

           Natasha said it with finality and Steve let the subject of the plan drop.

* * *

Two Weeks Until Opening Night

           Natasha's plan was very simple. Set a trap that neither Yasha nor the Guardian could resist. The only thing she could think of was to do a one night only ballet production, and advertise the crap out of it. Both parts made her uncomfortable, but she'd do it to bring Yasha out into the light for Steve to find.

           They set the opening night for the Friday night two weeks from the meeting with Fury, at one of the smaller theatres in Times Square. Nat spent all of her time practicing and choreographing with the independent ballet who had graciously allowed her to step in as a guest dancer for one showing of Swan Lake, while Pepper and the company’s PR director handled the advertising.

           Steve insisted on painting the master of the poster to be used for the showing, which honestly amazed Natasha. Somewhere along the way, she’d forgotten that Steve was an artist first and probably foremost. She perched on his couched, bandaging her blistered and bloody feet in a ritual that was almost automatic in its familiarity, while she watched him paint her from an old photograph she found in one of Alexei’s books. She was surprised that it was almost finished, with only the lettering needing to be added to it.

           “Have you seen the commercials yet?” Steve asked over his shoulder just has Nat was putting on two pairs of socks and then her houseboots.

           “I’m trying not to, actually.” She got up and wandered over to his chair, watching the brush fill in the finer details of feathers and jewels. “They’re calling me an assoluta.”

           “I thought that was a good thing.” He didn’t look up from his work, but the uptick at the end of his sentence indicated confusion

           “It is if you’re actually a ballerina, which I’m not.” In the kitchen, the kettle screeched and she went to  pull it off the stove, pouring the water over tea and bringing the mugs back to his easel. “It’s like calling you a Doctor if you don’t have a doctorate or gone to medical school. l don’t deserve it.”

           She pulled up a chair a little bit away from him and curled up in it to watch Steve. He was painting in individual highlights into her curls with a tiny brush. His precision in this compared to how he fought with her or in the field amazed her.

           "Did you know Alexei long before you married him?"

           Natasha rolled her eyes but answered indulgently. "I knew him for three days, five hours in total. I met him on Friday and we were married on Monday."

           Steve made a little noise in his throat, like he was surprised. "That doesn't seem like a long time to get to know someone."

           "It's not, but you don't really have to get to know someone when you're being told to marry them." Natasha said matter-of-factly, which shut Steve up almost immediately. "Don't be so surprised, it happens in America all the time. If you hadn't gone in the ice, it would have happened to you too." She smiled a little to herself at his discomfort. "It raises morale, which America would have needed just as desperately as Russia after the war. They'd have married you off to some pretty war girl in a big public wedding. The national would have listened to it on the radio and celebrated with you."

           "And how could you possible know that?" He wiped off his paintbrush and put it in their carrying case before settling into his chair. "You couldn't possibly know that."

           She grinned even more. "Because that's what happened to me. Russian prima marries military hero, both orphaned and raised by the state? Lyosha and I were propaganda for a better, happier Russia. The only thing that would have made it better was a baby, which obviously didn't happen."

           "Why is that?" Tonight was going to be a night for sharing, she could already tell. Steve's too-blue eyes were watching her with something akin to sympathy or sadness. It made her wonder if those were an enhancement too, super soldier puppy dog eyes or something like that.

           "Well, I was a spy and an assassin for one thing, the KGB needed my services more than the propaganda machine needed a child. And two, our schedules never seemed to sync up for it." Natasha shrugged, the now-familiar choking feeling rising up in her throat. "We'd made plans, but my work was too important and Lyosha's too dangerous. He didn't want to leave me widowed, much less with a baby and no support."

           The redhead finished her drink and got up to refill her mug. She could feel Steve's eyes at her back, watching and waiting.

           Teabag, water, and a healthy splash of vodka went into the chipped purple coffee cup, and Natasha took a steadying drink of the mixture to help loosen the tightness in her chest.

           She lifted her eyes, meeting Steve's gaze. "And where does Bucky fit into all of this? Why is he following you and not someone else?"

           You mean why is he not seeking you out?" Natasha said knowingly, Steve was upset and perhaps just a little jealous. Not that he needed to be. Yasha didn't remember her and, even if he did, he probably also remembered how she'd stood by and watched him be frozen. She couldn't exactly tell Steve that either, Yasha had an excuse for what he'd been forced to do, Natasha didn't have the same excuse and she couldn't afford to lose Steve as a teammate or the Avengers as allies. "I don't know. If I did, I'd have done that instead of going through with this plan."

           He got up and handed the photograph he was using for reference back to her.

           Alexei had taken her by surprise during a dress rehearsal just before the accident, snapping the picture just as she turned. Steve was using to reference the costume, which was heavy and detailed with hand beading and crystals.

           "You look happy in this." He told her, something like sadness in his voice.

           She had been happy, very happy. True, Alexei had loved her like other men had, but she had been so in love with him that it hurt to think about it, even seventy years on.

           Natasha walked over and put it with the growing shrine to her life before America and SHIELD. When had she become so damn sentimental? "It's called the long con, Steve. And it's what I'm best at."

           "Do you ever get tired of spewing that shit?" He laughed quietly, softening his words. It was an argument they had often. Often enough for Natasha not to get defensive or angry and often enough for her to be a little tired of it. She didn't answer, but got up and inspected the master portrait.

           It was beautiful.

           Natasha hated it.

           She hoped that Steve would want to keep it, or give it to the ballet company or, even better, sell it off so she'd never have to think about it again.

* * *

Opening Night

           Natasha stood in her dressing room, staring at herself in the mirror in something akin to resolute disbelief at what she was doing. She never thought she’d be on a stage again, let alone to lure her lover and his handler out in the open so his best friend from World War II to capture him.

           Someone had thought to make her costumes replicas of the ones she wore while dancing for Russia, which were startlingly old fashioned compared to the modern ones worn by the other dancers.

           She perched herself on the vanity, pointe shoes, sewing needle, and two feathers from her costume beside her just as Sam came in, dressed in a tux that hid the firepower underneath it well. “Wow. You look…”

           “Like an inside out pillow?” She prompted helpfully, bringing her right foot up to her lap and poked a toe with the sewing needle. Nat squeezed the skin until it beaded a drop of blood, gathering it with her finger before sweeping it on the sole of the white silk slipper.

           “A little, but a beautiful inside out pillow.” He leaned against the vanity on her other side, arms crossed over his chest. “What are you doing?”

           “It’s a stupid thing that Red Room girls do. Blood goes in the right shoe, because you don’t have a choice when exiting stage right. You’re not dancing for you, you’re dancing to entice a target. You're dancing for Russia.” She padded and wrapped her foot up tight in the slipper, seeing to it that the red streak would be visible on the bottom.

           “That makes sense.” Sam nodded. He was being indulgent, it didn't make any god damn sense, but it was so ingrained in her that the thought of not doing it filled her with a strange kind of panic. “What about the left?”

           Nat held up the two feathers, one black and one white. “Very important to Red Room girls, especially when dancing Swan Lake. Stage left goes on forever. If you dance while enough, you might even be able to escape.”

           “That’s… incredibly morbid.”

           Nat slipped the feathers in the sole of her shoes and wrapped that foot up too. She didn’t want to say that it was true because it had happened to her, if only for a little while. “I’m a Russian assassin who hasn’t danced since 1955 allowing myself to be bait for a super fan and a man who has tried to kill me twice. I’m allowed to be morbid.”

           “He’s not going to get a third bite of the apple.” Sam assured her, looking so convicted that she believed him.

           “Don’t be nervous.” Steve told her, putting a light hand on her elbow as she smoothed out the bright feathers on her tutu for the hundredth time. Everyone was backstage, waiting to take their seats before the house lights went down, which surprised her. This was a mission, and yet all of her friends were here, just to see her dance. The marketing campaign worked better than anyone had anticipated. For the first time in many, many years, Natal’ya Romanova was dancing to a packed theatre. They were even turning people away at the door.

           “I’m not nervous, I just want to catch the Guardian and Barnes.” She said tersely, moving her hands from the costume to the wedding band around her neck before taking it off. “Someone take care of this for me, I can’t wear it on stage. Bad luck.”

           They needed all the luck they could get if the Winter Soldier was in the audience.

           Thor’s hand opened and she dropped the chain and ring into his waiting palm. The Asgardian beamed, tucking it into the breast pocket of his tux. “I’ll guard it as I would one of the precious treasures in my father’s vault.”

           The lights flickered, indicating the show was about to begin, and the stage manager began to make polite shooing motions with her clipboard.

           “Alright, everyone, be vigilant. Barnes won’t have collateral damage, but we don’t know what the Red Guardian will do if he’s cornered. If anyone sees them, pull the fire alarm and get people out. I’ll take care of the rest.” She said confidently, smiling too easily to be very at ease. “If I see them, I’ll cause a commotion.”

           Everyone started filtering out of the wings, Thor staying after the rest had left, he was her backup on stage.

           “Thank you for taking care of my ring.” She said quietly, hoping to usher him out the door so they could get started.

           “You’re more than welcome,” He said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a long braid on white hair and few bobby pins. “My mother, before my brother and I went to the fronts, used to give of horse hair braids to keep us light on our feet. I thought it would be appropriate for tonight.”

           Nat ducked her head to keep the wetness at the corner of her eyes from showing and turned to let him pin it into her hair.

           “Thank you again.” She said quietly as the oboes started, followed by the rest of the orchestra. Thor waved and Natasha stood on her mark, waiting for the curtain to open.

           The first act went off without hitch, and Natasha sat in the dressing room, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The smell of all the flowers left by admirers made her queasy, she didn't even notice Thor shutting the door behind him.

           "Something's wrong." Natasha said, fanning herself with the program.

           "What do you mean? Nothing's happened yet." The Asgardian tossed her one of the flimsy plastic bottles of water from backstage, checking in with the other Avengers on his phone. "No one has seen neither hide nor hair of them."

           "So, this has been a waste of time." Nat tossed the now-empty bottle into the trash. What if she hadn’t been enough to drawn Yasha and the Guardian out? What if Steve and Sam had been wrong about the pattern and it meant something else? She’d used up time and resources chasing a dead lead. "Fury's going to kill me..."

           Thor grinned ear to ear, which made Natasha feel more at ease. “He’s enjoying himself, actually. And you better hurry, the second act is about to start.”

           “How did you get to know so much about ballet, Thor?”

           "I'm a prince, people seem to forget that. I enjoy art in all its forms." He nudged her along with a big, warm hand on the small of her back. "Go on, you're already supposed to be out there."

           "I'm going, I'm going." She stepped out into the wings, the stage manager flapping his clipboard to shoo her out onto the stage.

           Natasha only made it as far as one of the Rothbart set pieces, tall and dark and parked next to the door to the alley.

           A cold hand clamped over her mouth, metal and gleaming in the dark blue work lights, then a gun pressed its muzzle snug against her spine. She felt the painfully familiar articulations of the fingers and palm on her lips.

           "Do not scream." James Barnes growled in her ear, What his voice low and rough. "Do not alert your team. I will paralyze you in one shot if you do. Do you understand?"

           Natasha nodded. She knew that that was exactly what Barnes would do if she didn't do exactly as instructed.

           "We're going to walk, calmly, out that door there." Natasha nodded again and then they were walking behind the massive constructed cliff, through the door, and into the back of a rental SUV that sped off as soon as the door shut.

           Neither of them spoke while a dark-haired man drove them through deserted alleys. Nat knew the tactic well, keep people from following you to your end point by taking the most complex route possible.

           They ended up at an old, abandoned building by the docks, a bizarre looking pair for the neighborhood. Bright white and silver in the grimy darkness before they got inside the building. It was massive and empty, with disused equipment in piles on the cement floor.

           Natasha was the first to break the silence between them when James started dragging her up a set of stairs.

           "If you're going to kill me, you should have just done it at the theatre." She said sharply in Russian as they climbed. Her shoes were shredding on the rough steps, and she was suddenly swung up into James' arms.

           He laughed as they came up to the second floor. It was set up like a loft-style apartment, complete with light and a kitchen area, a rough living room, and a large bed against a wall of dirty windows. James set her down. "If I was going to kill you, that's exactly what I would have done."

           Natasha watched him, confused but not feeling like she was in danger.  He walked over to a chest of drawers by the bed and tossed her clothes to change into. "This is very Phantom of the Opera, you know."

           "You set the board, Natal'ya, we're just following your rules." James retorted, turning to give her privacy  she changed into the borrowed clothes. Nat knew she had to get into contact with someone, just so they weren't Smashing through New York and forcing James into a situation that might end in one or both of them dead. "Alexei will be back shortly. He went out for dinner."

           "Is he your partner?" The Guardian had almost completely left her thoughts until James said his name.

           "He is our partner." James corrected as a door opened downstairs. "He'll be happy to see you."

           Footsteps echoed up the stairs, she turned when they hit the landing, and saw another ghost standing there with plastic bags hanging from his hands. He looked so different than when she’d seen him last, but there was no one else it could be but him.

           Alexei’s hair was longer and pulled back away from his face, but still the same reddish blond she loved so much. And he was smiling at her just like he used to.

           Natasha couldn’t breathe, and she slipped into one of the mismatched chairs before turning to James for some kind of confirmation. He just nodded.

           “How?” Her fingers gripped the back of the chair, Alexei moved to put the bags  in the kitchen and she found her voice. It was shaky and small. “I saw the photographs of them pulling you out of the wreckage. I buried you.”

           “I don’t know.” Alexei said, and even his voice was exactly the same. “I just know that I woke up in a room and remembered nothing.”

           “When?” She would have seen him on her missions. She’d seen James. Natasha would have known if her own husband was still alive.

           “I’m not sure.” He said and James nodded to confirm that too. “They never told me the date and I couldn’t figure it out.”

           “Some time after you left the country, we think.” James added. “The KGB didn’t want you to know Alexei was alive, so they only brought him out of cryo after you defected.”

           She guessed that made sense. She’d have done anything to get him out, both of them. Just like Steve would have done. She’d have burned Russia from the inside out if she had known. “Then how did you meet up?”

           Alexei brought plates of Italian food out from the kitchen and held one out to her. Natasha took it, but set it in her lap, not knowing if she could actually stomach it. She was suspicious of them, no one came back from the dead.

           Except that they did. Steve and James were both proof of that.

           “When SHIELD and HYDRA fell, they left in such a hurry that the cage doors weren’t locked.” Alexei said ruefully. He sat on the couch and started eating, not speaking until half the plate was gone. “I got out and found James. We found that we could fill in some of each others gaps, and that there was a redheaded woman in the news that could fill in the rest.”

           Natasha nodded. She found herself believing them, even though she knew she shouldn’t. Steve would, Steve did. And weren’t they in the same boat? He wanted so badly for Bucky to be alive, and she felt the same for both James and Alexei. “So, you found me.”

           James nodded. “We found you.”

           She sat up a little straighter and squared her shoulders. “Let’s get started then.”

* * *

 

 

Two Days Later

           Steve and the rest of the team sat in what Tony jokingly referred to as The War Room, but no one was joking at the moment. Natasha had been missing for almost forty eight hours and no one had slept in that time.

           She hadn't been wearing a tracker, they'd not expected her to be kidnapped from backstage. No one had seen her when she left, who'd been with her, or where they'd gone.

           The Avengers had been assembled just fifteen minutes before, but no headway had been made. Nat's phone had been in her dressing room, along with her clothes and shoes. She had nothing, left with no provisions or way to contact them.

           Steve's phone jingled suddenly and he scrambled to pick it up. He didn't recognize the number, but he put it on speaker anyway.

           "Talk." He said shortly, aggravated at whoever was calling him.

           "Steve, it's me. Put me on the big screen." It was Natasha, she didn't sound in distress. He switched the display from his phone to the screen on the wall that displayed the Avengers' A.

           Natasha's face filled the screen. Her hair was a mess and there were red pillow lines on her cheek. Steve felt the tension drain out of the room and there was a sound of relief that ran through the people in it.

           "Are you okay?" His voice was sharp with exhaustion. She looked like she was on vacation, and that irked him. They’d almost tore New York apart looking for her."Where are you?"

           "In an old warehouse near the docks." There was muffled joking offscreen, close to the phone's speakers. "We're fine, we didn't get a phone until this morning."

           "Did you find them?" It was Nick this time, standing from his chair at the head of the table. "Who is the Red Guardian?"

           "It's Lyosha.” Steve sat up a little straighter at the name. “I don't know the whole story yet, but apparently the KGB tried to recreate the success that James was. Except he was kept in Russia and James was sold to HYDRA. He said escaped when SHIELD fell."

           The joking in the background ground louder and Nat shushed them in Russian. "We'll be back at the Tower tonight." She assured. “There no need to bring everyone down to meet us.

           "Is Bucky there?" Steve asked hopefully, Natasha nodded and handed the phone off to James, who looked healthy but tired. There was another man drinking coffee in the background, his shirtless chest sporting impressive burns down the right side, disappearing under grey sweatpants.

           "Natal'ya says we have to come to you." Bucky said, and his voice was gruffer than Steve remembered.

           "I'd like that, yes."

           Bucky nodded. "We'll be there, then."

           The other Avengers were filing out of the War Room, Natasha was found and seemingly fine. They were headed to bed. Steve would head there as well as soon as the call ended. He was exhausted.

           "Steve?" Bucky was still speaking, Steve looked back a

           "Yeah, Buck?" He could see Natasha in the background of the video, putting clothes into bags. She snagged Alexei’s coffee cup and drank from it with a grin.

           "It's good to see you. Listen, I've got to let you go. Natal'ya needs help packing everything up here."

           Steve nodded. “Okay. Take care of yourselves.”

           The screen clicked off as the call disconnected and Steve sagged back into his chair. He was alone in the room, exhaustion sinking deep into his bones. Everyone was safe and they’d be in the Tower within hours. He propped his head up on his fist and fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

Epilogue

Christmas Eve

**  
  
**

           Christmas was always Alexei’s favorite holiday growing up. He loved the snow and the lights on the trees inside shop windows.

           New York at Christmas time was the best he’d experienced, Alexei decided as he sat on the couch in Natasha’s Avengers apartment, his wife on one side and their partner on the other.

           A lot had changed since he and James, who he now knew was the Bucky Barnes from the Captain America comics he read as a kid, found Natasha. They both were on track to being allowed in the field, working for the Avengers eventually. He and Nat moved in together, trying to start over in a relationship that was forced on them, and found himself in a relationship with James too.

           James shifted until he was comfortable, yawning, and Alexei could feel Nat smile against his shoulder. It’s a Wonderful Life played softly in the background and he found it fitting for the moment. His arms tightened around them, pulling both closer in the pile of sleepy and warm bodies, amazed at his luck in finding not one but two people who loved him.

_It was, indeed, a wonderful life._


End file.
